


My Name on Your Lips

by sewn



Series: Season of Kink 2019 [1]
Category: The Shannara Chronicles (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, F/M, Father/Daughter Incest, Prostate Milking, Queen Mareth, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-07-30 05:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20092375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewn/pseuds/sewn
Summary: ”No,” he says, gruff. ”I do. Want to, but –” he swallows, closes his eyes, his long dark eyelashes casting flickering shadows.”Then we’re in agreement.” Mareth slides her arm across his chest and presses a little closer so she can kiss his shoulder.





	My Name on Your Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Well this is just porn. Canon-divergent, Allanon lives, Mareth becomes Queen AU.
> 
> For the prompt "size kink" on my Season of Kink bingo card.

It’s hot in the room. Mareth tugs her dad closer on the bed, hands gripping the shirt he’s still wearing. The cloth is the last obstacle, annoying, but it rubs against her skin, her nipples, she can take it for a while, and she slides her fingers in his short hair and pulls him into a kiss.

He always kisses her with full concentration, like that’s the most important thing. Just that little bit more intense to make it a little dizzying.

Her dad is so much _more_ in many ways. She hasn’t slept with many humans before, and even then, never with someone so strong and broad, all solid muscle under her when they spar, when they’re in bed. She likes how he can envelop her in his arms, in his heat and scent, likes his scars and beard and the hair on his body, the taste and feel of his skin.

And, yeah, she would be lying if she said she didn’t like his cock, thick and long and so hot and silky under her touch, bigger than anyone she’s ever been with. It takes some time to take him inside when they fuck, and he is so painfully careful with her, so afraid he’ll hurt her, it drives her a little nuts. She’d be okay – more than _okay_ – if he sometimes just rammed in, pushed the air out of her lungs, her thoughts out of her head. 

She knows he knows all this, how she wants him, unable to stop reading her mind in the heat of the moment, but he doesn’t really _get_ it. He’s borderline apologetic about his size, which is both absolutely ridiculous and hot in some weird way.

She thinks about all this again as she kisses him, drags the shirt finally off. 

Allanon is leaving tomorrow and Mareth already hates the days to come. They have to part from time to time, as he has his businesses all over the land while she remains in the court. It’s never for long, but she starts yearning for his company after one night apart. This is the last one they get to spend together for maybe a couple of weeks.

To stave off some of that longing she fully intends to get as much of him as possible tonight, his mouth and jaw and the scratch of beard under her tongue, his collarbones and nipples, the dips between his muscles.

Her dad starts to move as if to get between her legs to go down on her, but Mareth slides her palm up his chest and pushes him back down gently.

”My turn this time?”

He’s let her get her mouth on him before, but it has been always been a quick prelude to something else, just a taste, and she hasn’t even swallowed him down the whole way, which, again, is ridiculous but also hot, a promise and a challenge.

”You don’t –”

She shushes him, keeps stroking his chest lightly until he relaxes on his back, head hitting the pillow. She rubs her toes against his calf. _Don’t have to_, he’s thinking, and that’s – 

”I _want_ to,” Mareth says out loud. ”Unless you don’t?” She doesn’t think he dislikes the idea, she can’t feel it anyway, but there might always be something, she doesn’t want to push. ”We can do something else,” she adds softly, though her body is tingling with anticipation.

”No,” he says, gruff. ”I do. Want to, but –” he swallows, closes his eyes, his long dark eyelashes casting flickering shadows.

”Then we’re in agreement.” Mareth slides her arm across his chest and presses a little closer so she can kiss his shoulder.

She swears to herself she can make this good enough that he’ll understand she really likes sucking dick. His, especially.

They keep bottles of oil in the bedroom, and Mareth gets up to rummage through her royal nightstand. She picks up the almond oil and returns to crawl across the bed.

She pours a little oil on her palm before wrapping her fingers around his half-hard cock. She starts slow, enjoying the way he hardens, the weight, the shape of it. They stay side by side and she kisses him again, slowly too, wanting to settle in this moment as if they had all the time in the world.

Once he’s fully hard, she leaves his cock for a while so she can run her palm up his stomach instead. Her fingers leave oily traces in their wake, and she stops to rub her slippery thumb over his nipple. His breathing stutters, and she licks at his mouth, captures the little sounds.

After one more kiss, Mareth crawls back and encourages him to spread his legs. She kneels between his raised knees. His veins throb with a desire for her, but his mind is jittery against hers. He _worries_ about it, and, yeah –

_It’s okay_, Mareth thinks. She looks down at his cock where it lies heavy against his abdomen and takes it in her hand again. Her fingers can’t quite reach around it.

She starts with a lick up his whole length, which earns her a gasp. She tastes almond, and the first hint of precome as she sucks the tip into her mouth.

Just to test it, Mareth tries to take in as much as possible, careful not to make herself choke because she can feel he’s downright anxious about it. She gets maybe halfway, until the slick head bumps against the back of her throat, and no, she never learned to take anyone deeper than that. Just as slowly, she lets him slip out, all glossy with the oil and her saliva, leaving her lips slippery and soft.

It’s certainly something she’d like to practice, later, but it’s not something she’s ever really cared for before (and if someone has a problem with her not taking their dick down her throat just like that, well, it’s not a dick she’s going to miss). 

Allanon doesn’t seem to mind, anyway. His breathing is getting deeper and deeper as she explores the head of his cock instead. She pulls the skin down gently so she can mouth at the head, trace little circles with her tongue. Her mouth is all wet now, so it's easy, a little messy even, and she continues down the side, more kissing than licking, sucking the skin between her lips.

Mareth strokes his chest and stomach with her other hand. She runs her fingertips through his chest hair, over his battle scars, some left by her. Her touch sends sparks all over his skin, and when her hand moves lower his muscles tighten.

His pubic hair is black and sprawling, just like hers, but coarse; there’s something _human_ about that, the slightly uneven way their bodies are done. The way his cock curves to the left, the way her breasts are just a tiny bit different in size.

Whenever they have sex, Mareth feels weirdly both more human _and_ more elf. It’s because there’s something missing, she suddenly realizes for the first time, as she presses her thumb just under the tip and all of his focus pinpoints there. The way that elves often like to fuck half-elves and humans: humans are stronger, sturdier, enough to resemble an animal, maybe, and it’d naturally follow they like it rough too. The way humans like to fuck elves, like they’ve won some contest or a bet, a notch on the bedpost. Her dad never thinks of that at all, only ever sees her as his daughter, as a druid and his queen, and that’s –

She loses track of her thoughts as all her concentration goes to sliding her palm down so she can feel the hair while she licks up his entire length. The muscles under her hand twitch, and she does it again, runs her fingertips all over his stomach, then lower to take his balls in her hand.

They are already drawn tight and high with arousal. She slips her mouth off his cock, pushes it up against his belly, holds it gently under her palm to get better access.

She likes how his hair rubs against her lips and cheek, the softer fuzz on his inner thighs. She mouths at the bend of thigh and pelvis before turning her attention back to his testicles.

She kisses his scrotum, sucks the thin hot skin between her lips. He’s so soft here, and sensitive, as she can tell when even the lightest touch sends a shiver all over them both. She wraps her left arm around his thigh, so she can push his leg back just the slightest bit. She breathes him in, thyme-scented soap, the almond, fresh sweat. The scent of their sparring and their bed, but more potent, slipping into her veins like some drug.

She licks over his balls, up his whole length again, then goes back to mouthing at the dark, heated skin.

And then she licks up again, starting from lower, and he –

Allanon’s hips jump, and she pulls back a little, arm tightening around his thigh.

So that’s something new for him.

She bends down again, presses her tongue against the skin right under his hot, tender testicles, rubs at it lightly; the smoothness of the spot is always fascinating in the middle of the coarse hair and the ridged skin. She sucks, a little, then returns to his balls to give him something more familiar. It doesn’t relax him completely, but it _is_ soothing, and he doesn’t flinch when she keeps alternating between the spots.

Finally, she moves down again, slower now, not just diving for it but running the tip of her tongue lightly over the rim. He gasps, and his hips threaten to jump up again, but she’s got him now: she strokes his thigh with her palm, down from his knee towards his body. He’s tensed up again, but it’s more like an involuntary reaction now. He must feel her pleasure at this, her curiosity, and she can tell it’s calming, it leaks back into her mind and encourages her to explore more.

She understands his hesitation, because it _is_ a vulnerable position, at first, though why no one has done this to him, either, is again beyond her – she feels suddenly very responsible, and she is extra slow when she swipes her tongue lightly up and down, trying to get him adjusted.

She keeps her right hand wrapped around his cock all the while, doesn’t jerk him but squeezes a little. When she remembers, that is, she’s getting a little lost in this, his heat and taste, and the position she’s in lets her put some pressure on her groin. Her arousal is like some slow spiral down, taking over little by little, down her thighs and up her belly.

She has _missed_ this, not the act, but _him_, getting to teach him something again, finding new places, being his first.

They’re both suddenly quite wound up, and Mareth thinks it okay to try the next step, she wasn’t sure if she’d want to, but this is going so well that she goes back to licking around the rim with more intent. He’s more relaxed, and there’s no resistance as she pushes just the tip of her tongue forward.

She squeezes his cock in encouragement, and dips her tongue deeper now, sort of licks, it’s a movement that’ll get your jaw sore if you keep it up, but she’s already given her future self all sorts of muscle aches.

He makes a sound, high in his throat, she can’t see his face but can feel his eyes are tightly shut, a few tears forcing themselves out of the corners. It’s not out of any pain, just the overwhelming feeling of it all.

Mareth releases his cock so she can stroke at his side instead, pulls back a little to kiss at his inner thigh. _Doing so well._

His mind flutters against hers, there are no words to speak or think, but it slips into her like smoke into lungs and she kisses his thigh again before going down.

She tongue-fucks him for a while, trying her best to remember to breathe and take some measure of progress by his flickering thoughts and his cock. She takes him in her hold, slides her palm up so she can feel the head. He’s leaking, twitching, sensitive all over, and just the lightest tightening of her grip has him gasping.

Sensing he’s close, Mareth pulls back; she doesn’t want to break the contact, so she slips the thumb of her left hand under her tongue before pulling out.

”How d’you feel?”

She doesn’t need to ask out loud, but she wants to hear his voice.

”G– good.” The sound is all gravel, and it travels straight through her into her core. His dark brown eyes are still watery but warm.

Mareth pushes her thumb in a little deeper. She would be happy going back to trying to devour his cock, honestly, but also, he seems to be into this, so –

”Do you like –?” she doesn’t even finish the line before his answering thoughts fly through her mind. He closes his eyes again, something like embarrassment in his head.

”Oh,” she says out loud. So he _never_ – 

”Hey, no, shh.” She slips her finger out so she can better lean forward and bend to kiss his stomach, hip, thigh. She’s filled with a fierce possessiveness again. _Nothing wrong with that._ She can be his first in this too.

Mareth pulls back so she can reach for the oil, rubs her slippery hands together to warm it up. She’s making a mess of the sheets, but then, the palace staff has had to get used to worse (it’s still unbelievable someone else washes her sheets, that she has sheets and a soft bed at all).

She touches him lightly again, just rubbing over his entrance with fingertips. He is relaxed though shivering with arousal, so when she slips one finger in, it goes easily. When she pushes deeper than where her tongue could reach, his head falls back. Mareth watches his face as she fucks him carefully. Just the one finger has him biting his lip to keep a sound from escaping his throat, his chest heaving.

She puts her left hand on his stomach, near his straining cock but not touching him. On the next push in, she adds another finger. It goes in smoothly, too.

Once he seems to be doing okay with the sensation, Mareth focuses on trying to find the right spot inside. If she’s sensing him right, no one _really_ has ever touched him there, and she wants, no, needs to right that wrong.

She takes his cock in a loose hold again as she rubs up against the wall inside him. It’s not difficult to find it, swollen and smooth: he draws in a quick breath. It takes a few harder strokes and then –

His hips arc off the bed. His cock strains in the half-circle of her fingers, precome glistening as it dribbles down the length. Mareth has to fight not to bend closer and lick it off. She very slowly jerks him while curling her fingers.

”That’s good,” she says, and her voice comes out lower than she expected. She is breathless as she watches him blink his wet eyes and wet his lips.

”You’re doing so good,” she says again.

She loosens her hold on his cock and begins to fuck him again. She lets the feeling embrace her, it’s like the rising sea, like a slow fever spreading through them both. Eventually, he writhes under her touch, and Mareth pulls the fingers out for a moment. They are both panting, and she rubs his thighs up and down.

_Some more?_ His body answers her with a twitch of his cock.

Once she’s got three fingers in, she doesn’t move them, just holds his cock gently in her left hand, by the root, rubbing very lightly with her thumb just above where the ballsack starts, where the skin is silky and hot.

She searches his face for any discomfort; she senses some apprehension, maybe, but it still feels good to him – his thoughts are a tangle, and getting more tangled up with hers, and as she makes a shallow circle inside him, the sensation travels down her own spine, his pleasure echoing inside her.

Now that he’s aware of the spot, it is like Allanon soaks the pleasure in more fully. Mareth lets his cock slip from her hand again, it seems like the pressure from inside is enough to push him towards an orgasm.

”You wanna try if you can come like this?” she murmurs.

Her body shivers with the _please_ that goes through him.

She concentrates on stroking him exactly right, delight bursting through her every time he moans or his mind lights up with pleasure. Left hand free now, she leans forward and slides it across his taut stomach, then chest. She runs her nails over a nipple as she presses hard up inside him, and he nearly whines, does it again when she repeats the motions, scratching his sensitive skin just a little.

It doesn’t take long, his muscles tighten as he comes, cock stuttering against his belly. She leaves him untouched, just stills her wrist and looks at him. He’s turned his head, face pushed into a pillow, and Mareth wishes he didn’t want to muffle the sound of his pleasure, but it’s alright. _It’s alright._ She straightens up a little so she can kiss the side of his knee.

”Again?” she says softly, and rocks her fingers. Her wrist is getting sore, but she keeps it up.

Allanon makes a sound, half-buried into the pillow. _Please, please, please._

Mareth repeats the movement, and it doesn’t take much more for him to come again. The clear thick liquid pools on his belly, drips down the length towards his balls. He’s sensitized all over, and the touch of her thumb on his knee is enough to make him tremble, and her with it.

His arousal is a thick fog in her head. There’s the partial release of the orgasm, but it’s not yet quite enough, and his body strains to tip over some edge. Mareth decides he can take a little bit more, and fucks him harder this time, almost feeling like three fingers isn’t enough, maybe next time they could try –

He comes the third time, hips rising from the bed, and now Mareth can’t hold back anymore. She bends her head and takes his cock and with no further ceremony sucks the head into her mouth. She swallows as much as she can, and jerks the base hard, while pushing her fingers up inside him.

His relief and pleasure wash over her, and she rubs the tender inside of her cheek against the slick head and lets him fuck himself down on her fingers.

There’s not a lot in him anymore, most of it fucked out of him already, but his cock is slippery in her mouth, a mess of come and oil and spit and sweat. The taste isn’t too good but it’s somehow intoxicating, and Mareth steadies him with her hand and swallows all she can, licking around the shaft and rubbing the head with her thumb until she feels a wave of discomfort from him and her fingers slip out.

She pulls back. She’s a little woozy and her legs hurt, so she scrambles to move up the bed so she can crash next to him.

Allanon is still out of breath, like he’s been kicked in the chest, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat, his stomach and chest with come. He’s utterly spent, but Mareth still feels his concern for her.

”You – do you want to –”

”It’s okay.” Something aches in her chest, though mostly between her legs. She’s been hovering on the edge of an orgasm for a while, she thought she might come from his pleasure hitting her nerves, like sometimes, but not quite.

She pushes her hand between her thighs.

”Can I just –”

He lifts his arm, with some effort, so she burrows closer, it’s an awkward angle but she can bury her face into his armpit, and she breathes in deep, his fingertips are little points of pleasure on her upper arm and it only takes a few hard circles over her clit for her to come. She lets out a moan her body has been holding in.

For a minute they just breathe, minds braided together.

”Well,” Mareth says after a while when her pulse is slowing down. ”That’s something we’ve got to try again.”

She turns to her side. She’d like to kiss her dad but he maybe doesn’t want to do that right now, so she settles for reaching up to touch his cheek with her slightly cleaner hand. He takes her wrist gently, kisses her palm.

”Once I’ve returned,” he agrees.

”Do you really have to go?” Mareth knows she sounds whiny, but it’s okay here. Whenever he leaves, half of her always resents it, the half that is not a queen but his daughter, his lover.

”We still have the morning. I wouldn’t leave without a proper goodbye.”

Mareth peers up so she can see his face, his dark warm eyes and the slightest hint of a smile.

”Was that you being suggestive? I can’t believe it.”

Allanon kisses her on the nose.

”You’ve taught me new tricks.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you read this far & are into it, [here's my tumblr for the ship](https://allanonxmareth.tumblr.com/).


End file.
